


Mirror Image

by ThatNerdyGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatNerdyGirl/pseuds/ThatNerdyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old X-File is reenacted when an old couple is found dead, the husband murdered and the wife with no bruises on her broken neck. Mulder and Scully are on the case, but their theories are put to shame when more incidents reveal the culprit to be more supernatural - and sinister.</p><p>Established Mulder/Scully</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Image

Scully stared at Mulder, silently willing him to look up and alleviate at least some of the bored, lazy mood that had swathed the office over the past few days. The X-Files hadn’t been given any new cases in three days, and Mulder had buried himself in an old case from 1942 as a source of entertainment. Scully hadn’t found anything for herself to do, and had taken to bringing a book to the office every day, looking up every once in awhile in lew of hope that the phone would ring with a new case.

 

“How much of your life are you going to spend on solving a fifty year-old case?” Scully teased Mulder, giving in to the temptation to bother him.

 

“As much as it takes,” Mulder shot back, eyes never straying from the paper. “I may even spend my whole life looking for the cause of these murders.” He spit another sunflower seed shell into the bucket Scully had provided him after a number of times she had found seeds stuck to her shoe. It was filling up alarmingly fast.

 

“Pity,” Scully said, scooting herself next to him to peer at the report. “If only we had something more current you could focus your brain power on.”

 

Mulder flung the paper onto his desk in a sudden fit of frustration, turning to face Scully full on. “This is getting ridiculous. When are they going to assign us a new case? The bureau can’t still be punishing us for last time around.”

 

Scully winced at the thought of their previous case, and shook her head. “I don’t know what the problem is, Mulder.”

 

“That’s go--” Mulder was interrupted by the office phone’s shrill ringing. There was a moment of stunned silence before the two agents lunged for the phone, Mulder managing to nab it off of the hook.

 

“Mulder,” he said, pressing the plastic to his ear. Scully heard a few garbled sounds from the other line. Mulder grinned at her. “We’ll be right down.”

 

“There’s a crime scene downtown with our names on it,” Mulder said as soon as the telephone was on its hook. Scully grinned and grabbed her coat. It was about time.

 

X

 

Scully studied the bodies carefully, noting the violent scratches and fork-shaped puncture wounds on the wife and the fork sticking out of the husband’s throat.

 

“Marty and Elaine McDonald,” Mulder said, walking over to where she crouched. “Both 63 years of age and retired. Elaine stabbed Marty’s throat - her fingerprints were all over the fork. Her neck was broken, presumably afterwards, but no fingerprints or the usual bruises indicating someone killing her were found.”

 

Scully frowned. “It’s definitely a weird one.”

 

There was a pause. Scully could practically hear Mulder’s brain whirring.

 

“Wait,” Mulder said, and after a brief moment of hesitation, “We need to get to the office. This is starting to sound a lot like a previous case.”

 

Scully looked at him for a few moments before reluctantly agreeing, and he grinned.

 

X

 

Scully unlocked the door to their tiny space and Mulder practically ran inside, making a beeline for his desk and rifling through the mess of papers covering the surface. He made a triumphant noise as he yanked a paper out from underneath a pile of books and shoved it into her face. She scowled and ripped it out of his hands, studying it.

 

“It’s that case I was looking at earlier,” Mulder explained as she examined the report. “The situation’s almost identical. Someone kills everyone around them, then themselves, although there’s no evidence to support it. The only connection between the victims was the fact that they inherited the will from the previous victims. There were only two documented killings, and they suddenly stopped after the last victim gave most of his belongings to goodwill.”

 

Scully frowned as she looked up from the paper. “Mulder, these killings happened over fifty years ago.”

 

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t connected.”

 

Scully resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “This had better not be another Tooms.”

 

Mulder gave a small laugh. “I don’t think so, but these are definitely related to one another. My best guess is we look at the will of Mr and Mrs McDonald before it’s passed on to some unsuspecting child of theirs.”

 

X

 

Scully jolted awake, disoriented as to why she had awoken before realizing that her phone was ringing. After a quick glance at the caller ID, she scowled and picked up with an irritable “What do you want, Mulder? It’s two in the morning.”

 

“When do they usually give out the contents of a will?” Mulder asked, ignoring her clear frustration at being awoken at such an unholy hour.

 

Scully flopped down on her back, staring at the ceiling as she felt her anger drain away. “Mulder, why are you still up?” she asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

 

There was some silence on the other end before Mulder said, in a quiet voice, “I can’t.”

 

Scully bit her lip and said, “I think they give out the contents of the will as soon as they’re able to. We can call tomorrow. Wait,” Scully added, sensing that Mulder was about to hang up on her. “I need you to do something. I need you to bring some blankets to the couch--”

 

“Scully--”

 

“Put on The Fly, and make yourself cozy, because I need you to get some rest, Mulder. I can’t stand to see those bags under your eyes.”

 

There was a short pause, and then, “I’ll try.” She could hear the gratefulness in his voice and smiled.

 

“Just get some sleep and get your stubborn ass down here by ten.”

 

“Alright, mom,” Mulder said teasingly, before hanging up.

 

Scully slid her phone into its hook and closed her eyes, relieved that she had finally convinced her partner to take care of himself, at least for tonight. She really did worry.

 

X

 

“Could you please tell us what happened earlier today?”

 

“I suppose I could.”

 

Scully examined the witness’ face, weariness and the remnants of fear clear on her features. They had received a phone call summoning them to a crime scene similar to that of the McDonalds, dealing with a realtor giving a tour to a family. The house she was touring was, in fact, the McDonalds’, giving Mulder even more cause to convince her it was something supernatural.

 

The witness, the realtor, adjusted her shock blanket and looked up at Scully, holding eye contact. “I was giving this family a tour. They were pretty average, two parents, two kids, all that. We made it through the first floor and were on to the second. We were almost to the master bedroom when one of the kids - an eight year old- suddenly stopped. His head was hanging limp, and his movements were… weird.” Her voice was growing shaky. “It was like he was a puppet. His eyes looked dead. Empty. He pulled a knife and got his mother’s throat. He went for his father, and while they were wrestling with each other, I left. I could have saved the little girl,” she whispered.

 

“What happened to the boy?”

 

The woman shook her head. “The police tell me he probably killed himself, after.”

 

Mulder nodded and said, not unkindly, “Thank you for your time.”

 

The witness smiled, although it was more of a grimace.

 

There were four bodies draped in white littering the hallway, and Mulder immediately knelt down to lift the sheet off of one, revealing it to be the father, a single wound in his jugular. A reveal reveal of the mother and daughter revealed the same: one single, clean wound.

 

“Mulder, these bodies show signs of skilled fighting and knowledge of the human body that a child couldn’t have possessed,” Scully said in wonder. “The realtor said the father was wrestling with the child, and there only seems to be one physical injury.”

 

Mulder hummed, acknowledging her, and lifted the sheet off of the boy’s body. He frowned. “The kid’s covered in wounds, Scully.”

 

“They look self-inflicted.”

 

Mulder flicked the cover back over the child’s face, expression grim, and straightened out. “Do you think he was after the contents of the will?”

 

Scully slowly shook her head. “It appears that’s out of the question. I’m going to see if I can do an autopsy on the boy and possibly Mrs. McDonald. I want to see if there was something wrong.”

 

Mulder nodded. “Alright, Scully. I think I’ll look around some more. Go on without me.”

 

After a call from Scully saying that their was nothing wrong with the bodies, the pair met up in the office to talk about the case.

 

“I think the will is still our best bet,” Mulder states, leaning against his desk and rubbing a tired hand across his face.

 

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Scully said. “That eight year old would have no reason to kill his family like that - they weren’t going to be inheriting the will.”

“I know, Scully. But maybe it isn’t someone after the house - maybe it’s the house after someone.”

 

“Mulder, I--” Scully cut herself off, not wanting to start an argument with Mulder. She glanced at the clock on the wall; it read eleven at night. “Mulder, I’m going to go home and get some sleep. Please do the same.”

 

X

 

Mulder’s phone call the next morning interrupted Scully’s coffee.

 

“Scully, it’s me. I just received a phone call - the contents of the will have already been distributed to the McDonalds’ two daughters. They’ve given us their names and addresses - Katherine and Katlyn McDonald.”

 

“Give me the address of one of them. You’ll interview one and I’ll do the other.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, Scully.”

 

X

 

Mulder walked up the creaky wooden steps towards the door of Katherine McDonald, taking out his badge and knocking on the door. It opened not long after, revealing a brunette woman looking to be in her early thirties.

 

“Are you Katherine McDonald?”

 

The woman looked confused. “Yes.”

 

“I’m Special Agent Mulder. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

She nodded and opened the door further, stepping aside. “Of course. Come in.”

 

Sat on an old green couch with a cup of tea in his hands, Mulder finally began asking his questions after Katherine finished ‘making him at home’. “Have you or any of your housemates been acting strangely since you receive the contents of your parents’ will?”

 

Katherine shook her head, her expression growing sad. “I don’t live with anyone. I haven’t been acting  strangely, at least to my knowledge.”

 

Mulder nodded. “If it isn’t too personal, may I ask a few things about you parents?”

 

She smiled. “Of course. Go ahead.”

“DId your parents ever exhibit hostility or hatred towards each other?”

 

“I don’t think so. They alway seemed so… so stereotypically in love. It certainly came as a shock to hear about how they - how they died.”  

 

Mulder’s head was buzzing. What was going on? Nothing seemed to be connecting any of the situations at hand. “Did you mother ever show signs of extreme violence?”

 

“No, definitely not.”

 

Mulder furrowed his eyebrows. “May I tour your home?”

 

Katherine nodded, although with a slight frown. “Of course. Let me show you around.”

 

She lead him around the lower level, and in the hallway leading to the kitchen she glanced into a gigantic, antique mirror. Mulder had just enough time to see her reflection nod at her before she suddenly leapt onto him, knocking him onto the ground.

 

His vision blacked out for a few seconds as his head hit the wood floor, but he managed to shove her off and grab his gun, pointing at her.

 

She was exhibiting strength and speed she shouldn’t have had, and Mulder strongly suspected she had fighting skills she shouldn’t have had. He kept a safe distance away as he watched her get to her feet, her eyes blank and her head lolling across her shoulder, resting against her back.

 

Mulder felt a shudder run through his spine. “If you attack me, I will shoot you.” He said as calmly as he could. She twitched violently, disjointed movements causing her to rake her fingernails down her arms, drawing blood.

 

“I have reason to shoot if you attack me,” Mulder warns again, more for himself than Katherine, for she didn’t seem to be hearing him.

 

She stood there for a long time, nails cutting into her torso and arms, and Mulder slowly lowered his gun, reaching for the handcuffs on the back of his belt. It was like flipping a switch. As soon as his guard was down, she lunged. He fired wildly, catching her in the shoulder. It failed to slow her down. She grabbed a picture frame off of the wall and smashed it against his head, shoving him and pinning him to the ground. She scratched crazily at his throat, drawing blood. He gripped his gun tightly and pressed it to her stomach, firing twice.

 

She dropped down on him, unconscious or dead, and he pushed her off of him.

 

He stood and stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of paper towels and pressing them to his throat to staunch the bleeding. He grabbed the phone and called Scully, shaking slightly as he leaned against the counter.

 

“Scully, it’s me.”

 

“There’s nothing here, Mulder. Did you find anything.”

 

Mulder didn’t answer, staring at Katherine’s body lying in the hallway and deciding that she was probably dead. He felt guilt and relief mingle awkwardly in his stomach, and, hand shaking, put his gun back in its holster.

 

“Mulder?” Scully asked, worry evident in her tone.

 

“Something here,” Mulder said, voice miraculously steady. “She attacked me. I had to shoot her.”

 

“Mulder-”

 

“I’ll meet you at the office after I take care of this.”

 

He hung up, immediately pressing the buttons to call backup.

 

X

 

“I think it has something to do with the mirror.”

 

Scully watched Mulder pace around the office with concern. She knew that shooting a civilian had taken a toll on him, but thought that confronting him about it now would be a mistake. She would make him talk about it after the case was over and done with, but for now, she would be focusing on the case.

 

“Why?” Scully asked, already raising an eyebrow.

 

“I saw her reflection nod at her, Scully.”

 

“Mulder, it’s more likely that there’s a disease going around. It’s probably not a mirror controlling the killers - that’s ridiculous.”

 

Mulder looked at her. “Think about it. The mirror has been at every crime scene. Every murder has taken place in the room the mirror has been in. It makes sense, Scully. I’m going to camp out in Katherine’s house tonight. I want to investigate the mirror further.”

 

Scully looked back at him. “I’m going with you.”

 

X

 

They had set up camp in the living room, Scully perched on the green couch Mulder had sat on mere hours earlier and Mulder was sprawled out across the floor, head below Scully’s knees and feeling more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

 

“Even if it was the mirror, how are you going to report that to Skinner?” Scully asked, playing with his hair. He shrugged.

 

“It’ll be an unfinished case on their record, then,” he said casually, but Scully could see the weariness on his face. He stood up, collecting the trash from their dinner, and smiled at her. “I’m going to throw this away.” She smiled back.

 

“Don’t look in the mirror,” she said, meaning it as a joke.

 

“I won’t.”

 

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go into the hallway with the possessed mirror.

 

X

 

Halfway to the kitchen, Mulder’s head was forcefully turned towards the mirror by what felt like a cold hand on his chin, and he was suddenly staring into the eyes of his grinning reflection.

 

Not long after, everything went black.

 

X

 

Scully frowned, hearing scuffling noises and loud thuds from the end of the hall and places her hand on her gun, creeping towards the hallway. “Mulder,” she calls out uncertainly, worry pooling in her gut when there isn’t a response. Instead, the noises suddenly stop.

 

She tiptoes towards the kitchen, the room lit up only by the dim glow from the stove light. She slipped around the corner, gun out and ready, and her eyes landed on Mulder, standing in the middle of the kitchen, head lolling on his chest and a knife in hand. Several deep, long cuts were across his arms and torso, and she watched in horror as he twitched, creating another cut across his ribcage.

 

He turned towards her suddenly and took a step forward, movements stilted and arms limp, almost as if some gruesome puppeteer were controlling him. She took a step back for every step he took towards her, and she glanced back at the hallway.

 

She took in a startled gasp. Mulder’s reflection was still in the mirror, eyes dripping blood and a sickening grin spread across his face. She whipped her head around to look at Mulder, who, she noted with relief, didn’t have bleeding eyes, but also had no expression.

 

She raised up her gun in defense just as he lunged at her with an inhuman speed, dodging so that a long slice was given to her arm instead of her chest. She turned so that she was the one in the kitchen and he was in hallway. She fired a warning shot, the bullet creating a hole in the wall between Mulder’s head and the mirror. A sudden idea went through her head.

 

Mulder pounced at her again, but she was already moving, pistol gripped tightly in her hand, and she swung wildly at the the mirror, cracking it. It howled in pain, the inhuman noise piercing through her ears.

 

She saw Mulder heading towards her out of the corner of her eye and swung again at the mirror, successfully shattering it, shards of glass bouncing off of her and cutting her face and arms. The mirror screamed and Mulder collapsed to the ground, his head cracking against the stone tiles. Scully stood there, unmoving, her heart beating wildly and blood dripping from a cut on her cheek.

 

She walked shakily towards the kitchen phone and dialed 911, informing them of what happened and asking for an ambulance. She then took a few steps towards Mulder, hesitance over taking her until she saw his face - it was no longer expressionless, but peaceful. She hadn’t realized there was a difference.

 

She knelt down and placed his head against her thigh, absentmindedly stroking his hair and thinking about nothing but the weight of his head on her leg and the softness of his hair.

 

X

 

When Mulder woke up in the hospital, he didn’t remember much of anything past throwing out the trash. But when he looked over and saw Scully sitting in a chair by his bed, arm in a sling and stitches across her cheek, he put two and two together.

 

“I’m so sorry, Scully,” Mulder said quietly, looking into her eyes.

 

She smiled at him. “I don’t mind, Mulder. It wasn’t you.”

 

“Scu--” he was cut off by Scully’s lips on his, and he shut his eyes, electing to worry about it later.

For now, everything was just fine. 


End file.
